


if you're one of them, then you're one of me

by hidefromeveryone



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Asexual Character, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Character, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9837806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidefromeveryone/pseuds/hidefromeveryone
Summary: Josh runs a site entitled "Goner" which preserves the suicide notes and last words of individuals who submit their final confessions to him. He also tries to save each and every one of them.Sometimes he succeeds. Sometimes he doesn't.And there's a person, whom Josh only knows as Blurryface, who submits a suicide note and makes an attempt on their life every two weeks.DISCONTINUED





	1. the ghost of you is close to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suicider00m](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicider00m/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We Call This Death Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004542) by [edy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy). 



> stay safe.

Josh started the site after he found a crumpled napkin stained with blood lying on the park bench five blocks away from his house. It had three sentences scrawled on it from a shaking hand. Josh had been unable to shake the strange guilt which flooded his lungs until he couldn't breathe anymore. 

Phantom hands locked a chokehold around his neck as he made his way home. The longer he held the note in his hands, the stronger the urge to vomit became. On his back porch, Josh vomited until his throat was raw, his stomach was empty, his mouth was dry. 

Stumbling upstairs to his room, Josh noticed the black spots obscuring his vision continuously growing larger. His laptop lay on the edge of his bed, glowing in the dim lighting. Josh pulled up Tumblr and navigated towards the sideblog creater, making one entitled "Goner" at a forgettable, depressing, black-and-white URL. 

Typing in the text found on the napkin with shaking hands and a breaking heart, Josh posted the note. It was tagged with "suicide note" and "do not reblog," even though he knew people would still circulate the post around. 

Josh closed his laptop and buried his head under his flattened pillow, screaming and sobbing until he passed out.

\-----

**I know that I'm supposed to keep breathing so the future can greet me with a bucketful of happiness and opportunities. But that future will never find me, and life has no meaning. I know no one will miss me, but goodbye to anyone who's listening. - Joe**

\-----

Someone had submitted a post to him while Josh was asleep. It was from a girl, thirteen years old, with a blog made up of pastel goth aesthetics and hair dye reviews. After quickly skimming the wall of text, Josh swallowed hard and typed an increasingly urgent, frantic, nervous message into the girl's inbox.

Because it was her suicide note, and _what if she was dead_. 

After a day of pacing and nothing but bile bursting forth from his stomach, Josh heard the ping of a message notification and rushed to open the mobile app. It was from her blog, and the swell of hope within Josh's chest was enough to take his breath away. But it wasn't long before it became hyperventilating, and collapsing to the floor, and digging his fingernails into his arms to ground himself.

The message was from her older sister, and the girl had been found dead from an overdose in their family bathroom that morning. She had been going through her sister's things, looking for answers, when she thought to check the old computer in the family room. Which has led her to her sister's Tumblr, and Josh's message, and she wanted to see the note. 

So he posted it, and she thanked him, and Josh cried himself to sleep again.

\-----

**I know people leave notes when they do this sort of thing, so this is mine. When it comes down to it, I know I am just a problem and burden for my family. I know they love me, but they shouldn't have to deal with a depressed kid. I shouldn't have been born. Nothing is ever going to get better. I'll never be anything good, and people will be happier without me around. I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. I love you, big sis. Goodbye. -Ashley**

\-----

Three days passed before another note came in, and Josh spent those three days having too many panic attacks and late-night breakdowns. He was constantly on edge, waiting for another person to submit their suicide note to him.

Because what if he didn't see it in time? What if more people died? What if he couldn't save them? 

This was all his fault, and it was his job to help them. He wasn't allowed to fail, because failure meant immortalizing someone's last words and confessions on a blog made by a teenage boy in Columbus, Ohio. He wasn't allowed to fail, because failure meant he had their blood on his hands. He wasn't allowed to fail, because failure allowed a thirteen-year-old girl to die. 

He had been _asleep_. 

And that's why he carved that word into his upper right thigh. To remind him to never make that mistake again, because that mistake had killed someone. 

It was when he had finished defacing his skin that the new note rolled in, from someone calling themselves "Blurryface."


	2. can you drown me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygod thank you so much everyone for the kudos and comments and bookmarks and just everything! it means so much to me that people are liking this. i've never had this kind of immediate feedback on any of my other stories! i hope i can do this fic justice for all of you <3 i'm sorry if i don't live up to expectations.

**i want everything to stop. i’m bad and i’ll never be anything good. i deserve pain. every inch of me is disgusting and i can’t get anything done i’m worthless. i feel so fake all the time. it always hurts to close my eyes. i can barely move. why am i alive. - blurryface**

\-----

**spookyjim** started a conversation with **floralghost**

 **spookyjim (1:32 a.m.):** Hey, are you okay? 

**spookyjim (1:33 a.m.):** Please don't kill yourself. Please. I understand, trust me. But, please don't. 

**spookyjim (1:34 a.m.):** Is there anything I can do to help? 

**spookyjim (1:35 a.m.):** Please answer so that I know you're still alive. 

**spookyjim (1:36 a.m.):** I don't want to be creepy, but where are you at? Is there someone that I can call for you? 

**spookyjim (1:37 a.m.):** Please don't be dead. 

**floralghost (1:45 a.m.):** don't try to stop me. 

**spookyjim (1:46 a.m.):** Why?? 

**floralghost (2:03 a.m.):** because this is how it's supposed to be. 

**spookyjim (2:04 a.m.):** No one is supposed to want to kill themselves. 

**spookyjim (2:05 a.m.):** Hello??

**spookyjim (2:06 a.m.):** Fuck. I'm calling the police, okay? Please don't be mad.

\-----

Josh had his knees tucked into the cave his chest created when he hunched over. Fingers running rivers over each other, he unconsciously rocked back and forth as the dial tone of the police station's tip line raised his anxiety to an uncomfortable level. Upon hearing the line pick up, Josh felt all of the information he had been able to find - the IP address, the email the account had been tied to, the last time the user had been active - rush out of him in a wave of run-on sentences and hushed tones. The operator thanked him and hung up before Josh was able to ask if they would call him to let him know the outcome of the situation.

Three hours later, his phone's ringtone jolted him out of an uneasy sleep and into action as he accepted the call. 

The account had been made with a fake email, at a library computer, and no one had been there when the police arrived. The building didn't have any surveillance cameras due to budget cuts, and the bridge nearby had a few stones missing from the top of one of its barriers. No body had been found, but a pair of water-logged sneakers found a few miles down the bank next to a blood-stained hoodie left the impression that someone had made the jump and survived. 

They said there was nothing more they could do, and Josh punched the side of his house until the knuckles on his left hand were bruised a strange shade of purple and brown.

\-----

Food became a luxury for Josh, something to be shoved down his throat whenever his vision became too blurry or the threat of passing out grew too large. It wasn't like he was _starving_ himself, he just didn't have the _time_ to eat anymore. Between school, family, friends, and attempting to save everyone who wandered into his blog (usually during the hours lying between "late at night" and "early in the morning"), he was just too busy to follow a normal diet. But he was fine, because he was still eating.

If a granola bar and ten cups of coffee consumed over the course of three days counting as "still eating." 

Throwing back another sip of caffeine, Josh turned his attention back to the boy he was talking to. He had submitted a note to him twenty minutes before, and Josh was slowly talking him down from the edge. Luckily, the boy seemed to be willing to go to sleep for now so that he could talk to someone in the morning about what he was feeling. Josh felt a smile engulf his face as the boy promised him that he was safe before wishing him good night and signing off. 

He had saved someone. 

For the first time since this had all began, Josh slept soundly.

\-----

**i told myself that i could handle the feminine pronouns and hearing/seeing my birth name once i had finally accepted myself. because that’s all i had ever known. but now whenever i hear someone say “oh yeah she…” or “that’s her…” or hear “hey kelly, how are you?” it makes me shrivel up more inside. i still feel fake most days. i’ve never heard anyone call me by my chosen name aloud. or use gender neutral pronouns. i just. i’m tired. i don’t know if i can tell anyone. it was a few months ago that i accepted myself and yet. still i sit here and question myself with every feminine pronoun/birth name thrown my way. i just want to die. i don't know why i should keep breathing anymore. - mikey**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this was okay. 
> 
> shout-out to everyone who caught the cameo at the end c: let me know down in the comments below if you recognized it!


	3. trust is damaged and now we panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so nervous that people will stop liking this. i'm sorry if my writing or story isn't what you expect or want. i'm trying my best to make it something you'll love. thank you for all of the sweet comments.
> 
> sorry this update took longer. personal life stuff has got me down. 
> 
> also, please look at the tags. i don't want anyone to get hurt because they read this story.

Two weeks ago, Josh had found the blood-stained napkin on the park bench five blocks from his house. Ten days ago, Blurryface had disappeared after jumping into the river. Two days ago, he had saved someone. 

But too many people had died. Too many people had died because Josh hadn't done enough to save them. 

And that's why his phone was constantly on vibrate, buzzing against his leg as every note came into him. It could be at five p.m., as he was struggling through his math homework. It could be at one a.m., as he was desperately trying to fall asleep. It could be at eleven a.m., as he was sitting in his government course and attempting to learn about the judicial process. 

It could be at seven p.m. as he sat with his legs crossed in the corner of the jock's living room, a beer balanced on his right knee and his free hand drumming out his anxious energy on his left. 

The latest was twenty-four years old, with a nervous disposition that rivaled his own and a self-deprecating answer for every question Josh asked. His name was Patrick, but he liked to be called Trick. He said that's what his boyfriend had always called him. _Had_ , because his boyfriend had swallowed a bottle of Ativan in a Best Buy parking lot three days ago and died. They had been inseparable, and the reality of living without Pete for the rest of his life seemed worse than death to Trick. He was choosing death over life. Josh was persuading him to choose life over death. 

It seemed to be going alright, with Trick answering his messages quickly and with raw honesty. Hopeful undertones began to shine in Trick's snippets of text and thoughts, and Josh felt a small smile lift the corners of his lips towards the ceiling lights illuminating his soft pink hair. But the lingering question of Trick's safety kept Josh's anxiety levels high. 

Because something didn't feel _right_. 

Maybe it was because Trick was so quick to accept Josh's pleas to stay alive. Maybe it was because Trick's replies were getting shorter and shorter. Maybe it was because Trick's words seemed disjointed, broken almost. Maybe it was because Josh knew what it looked like to fake being okay.

So, he asked if Trick was safe. And he wasn't surprised when Trick said he wasn't. Because Josh _knew_. But he had hoped otherwise. 

Trick had taken a bottle of Lexapro alongside several pints of Jack Daniels fifteen minutes after they'd started talking. He was going to be dead in a few minutes. An ambulance wouldn't get there in time. 

Josh told him that he was sorry, that he hoped he wasn't in pain, that he wished there was something he could do. Trick didn't answer. 

After knocking back the last of his own beer, Josh grabbed the one by the fallen couch cushion, the one by the coffee machine, the one by the stereo, the one by the bathroom sink. Josh downed them before he could question his decisions, and found the boy who had been flirting with him earlier in the night balanced on the front porch outside. Pulling him around to the back, Josh whispered a proposition into the boy's ear which made him look at Josh in confusion. 

"I thought you were ace?" 

"It doesn't matter. If you're okay with it, then I am too." 

"Okay. Let's do it."

\-----

**Maybe I can just fade into nothing. I already was nothing. I was nothing before him, and now he's gone. He made me something, and without him I'm nothing once more. I’m not real. I shouldn’t exist. Everything is collapsing around me. i’m going to die alone. He died alone. I can feel myself fading. I'll see him again soon. -Trick**

\-----

He had collapsed in the shower, and the heavy drum of the water against his back beat Josh further down. His mouth was pressed against the drain, and Josh could feel his lungs filling with the clear liquid. The realization of what he had done immobilized him.

Digging his nails into his flesh, Josh drew forth crimson blood from his veins until it stained the tiling of the shower a sick red. The steam was raising the temperature continuously higher in the small bathroom. Scalding water burned his legs, his arms, the nape of his back. Fumbling for the shower dial, Josh first turned it up before off. 

Lying in his bed, Josh realizes that he doesn't remember how he got there. Or why the clothes he wore to the party lie abandoned in a trash bag two stories down from his bedroom window. Or why his body is vibrating against the dirty sheets on his mattress. 

All that he remembers is that it was consensual. 

That was the truth. 

All that he remembers is that he had enjoyed it. 

That was a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry. i feel this wasn't that good.


	4. not a chapter

due to things happening in my personal life, this is discontinued for now. i'm sorry. i hope everyone is having a good day. 

i just need some time.


	5. not a chapter...again

hey friends. 

so. 

three weeks ago i dropped the short and cryptic message saying this was discontinued for the moment. 

everything was still very fresh then, but now it has had some time to settle and i am doing a little bit better now. 

long story short, i was outed to my parents. about being both gay (panromantic asexual) and trans (agender). 

they didn't...take it well. 

things have mainly settled now. my parents and i are kind of at a "we're not gonna talk about it" and they're using my birth name and feminine pronouns. 

but it's all good. no worries. 

there's some other stuff too, but that's the main thing. 

i just wanted to offer an explanation for my sudden disappearance three weeks ago. i feel like i owed you all one, since i know a lot of you were liking this and i'm sorry i let you down. 

i still need some time, not going to lie. i'm going to try to talk to my parents more about things...soon. idk. 

i guess you could say this is still discontinued for now, but i'm hoping in another few weeks i'll be in the place to pick this up and start writing again. 

thank you so much for anyone that stuck around and is reading this right now. i am so sorry this happened. 

thank you. 

i hope everyone is okay, and if you need anything contact me through a private message on my tumblr, @hidefromeveryone

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @hidefromeveryone
> 
> trevor lifeline: 1-866-488-7386  
> crisis text line: text "start" to 741741
> 
> stay safe. stay alive. find your light.


End file.
